


Cursed Be Thy Family

by Anonymous



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fatherhood, Hanzo Shimada has Issues, Kid Fic, Lol I don't even play the game anymore, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, guess who showed up to Overwatch five years late with Starbucks and a hatred for Blizzard?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was a form of poetic justice that his brother haunted him with his own flesh and blood, chocolate brown eyes he never thought he would see again staring up at him in the form of a babbling infant.Hanzo killed his brother. Hanzo finds out his brother conceived a child shortly before being murdered. Now it is Hanzo's job to raise his niece while the ghosts of his pasts are determined to haunt him.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52
Collections: Anonymous Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been haunting my Google Docs for four years at this point. Thought I would post it here and return to it when I remember that I sometimes write as a hobby. Have a few chapters lined up but afterwards who knows if I'll continue it? 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy all my socially-awkward-man-with-emotional-constipation-becomes-a-father trope lovers

One of Hanzo’s earliest memories involved Genji. He remembered being surrounded by dozens of faceless bodies murmuring excitedly with each other; a tense atmosphere in the wood tatami room. Hanzo himself was forgotten amidst all the excitement except for the occasional relative asking him “ _Are you happy that you're going to be a big brother?_ ” or “ _Your father and mother are coming home any minute now with your baby sibling!_ ” Even at such a young age, Hanzo knew the birth of a new Shimada was of the utmost importance to everyone in the clan. 

When the paper screen doors slid open, a hush fell over the room. There in the doorway stood his father, as stern and serious-looking as ever, and his mother. In her arms was a bundle of cloth upon which she was lovingly gazing. On her face was the soft smile she reserved only for him and, rarely, his father. All sound in the room was gone now, replaced with silent but expectant stares at his father. As head of the clan, they looked to him to break the silence.

“It's a boy,” Sojiro boomed proudly. “His name is Genji.”

All the noise from earlier returned tenfold. The women crowded around his mother, cooing over the newborn Genji and wagging their fingers at him. The men approached his father with claps on the back and firm handshakes, congratulating him on his new son. As for Hanzo, he stayed sitting by the tea table and watched his family in awe over their newest member. 

Then, to his surprise, his father looked directly at him. He said something to his mother who nodded and carefully handed the baby over to him. His relatives parted like the Red Sea as Sojiro walked towards him.

The lines on his father’s face were softer than usual, his eyes were as well. He tilted the bundle in his arms ever so slightly so Hanzo could see the tiny person his mother brought into this world. His first impression of his brother was how wrinkly he looked. Little Genji blinked his eyes open for only a second before closing them again (Chocolate brown, much like his own but somehow so different). Hanzo’s gaze never leaving the baby, let his finger wander towards his brother's tiny hand. He was awestruck as Genji wrapped his hand around his appendage. It was as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Hanzo, this is your brother Genji,” Sojiro explained softly. “It is going to be your job to show him how to be a Shimada.”

It was the most tender moment he had with his father in his life.

Hanzo now wondered if Genji’s last thoughts were of them. Perhaps a memory of a time before familial duty was a lingering burden over their heads, however brief that may have been. A time before their father bestowed upon them the duties that came with being a Shimada. 

It was a form of poetic justice that his brother haunted him with his own flesh and blood, chocolate brown eyes he never thought he would see again staring up at him in the form of a babbling infant. 

When a contact tipped him off about an unknown Shimada, Hanzo could not believe it. It was just some foolish way for these so-called information brokers to scam money from him. After all, they themselves said it all started from some rumor spreading around the darkest corners of Hanamura. A woman offhandedly mentioning to a coworker how her daughter’s father was Genji Shimada himself, only for her to die tragically a month after the infant’s birth. Hanzo didn’t want to believe it, even going as far as to demand a DNA test before claiming the child. Against all odds, the results proved her claim true. Genji was a father. He was an uncle. 

As he stared at the document confirming that the baby was indeed his niece, one question remained, burning at the back of his mind...

Did Genji die knowing he was going to be a father? 

Hanzo could only pray that he did not. To die knowing it was your own brother who struck you down and could possibly go after your unborn child and their mother next. That feeling would be… devastating. 

Hanzo tried to reason with himself, if only to lessen some of the guilt that burdened him. Genji couldn't have possibly known he conceived a child. If he did, he would've insisted that the mother abort. They had both heard their father’s threats on what he would do to them if they were ever stupid enough to impregnate a girl without the family’s consent. Most of these threats were directed to Genji of course, his status as a playboy being no secret. But, despite what his elders may have thought, Genji wasn't stupid. He used protection and had assured his family that he urged all his female partners to take birth control.

So no, Hanzo thought with the slightest bit of relief, Genji did not know he was to become a father. 

But that still begged the question of why the mother decided to keep the child. Based on what little information his contact had found on her, she had no rational reason to. She was a waitress until the day she died, serving at one of the many lounges that filled Hanamura. It came to no surprise that Genji flirted with and eventually bedded her. He never did pass up ‘a great pair of tits with a pretty smile’ as he so eloquently put it. Supporting a child would be difficult both financially and practically. 

So was she after the Shimada fortune? It would be strange for her to know about them, but not impossible. Perhaps she planned to confront his brother with the child in her arms, maybe threaten to tell his elders of them and blackmail him into paying her? Perhaps she wanted to use the child as a way to gain entry into the clan, whether by right of blood or wedlock. But unbeknownst to her, Genji was disgraced from the family and killed shortly after their coupling. Any of Genji’s children would have been disowned from the family and dealt with one way or the other. 

And that was where the main issue lied. A bastard child between a civilian and the notorious troublemaker of the family would not be tolerated at all. 

Not at all.

It was his duty to the Shimada clan to kill his brother, and now it was his duty to his brother to take care of his child. According to the birth certificate, the mother had named her Katsumi. She had been wise enough to leave the space for the father’s name blank, at the very least. A copy of her death certificate stated the cause of her death was getting hit by a reckless driver. An unfortunate and preventable death, but sadly common in Hanamura, especially for the less fortunate who didn’t have the means to bribe authorities into investigating the death or hire a lawyer.

For Hanzo, however, money was not a problem, it never was. Not only was he still an active mercenary and assassin, he had enough savings to last a normal and responsible man several lifetimes. Being constantly on the run from assassins was not the safest environment to raise a child in, but Hanzo figured he’d find a way. He had no choice but to. 

Neither man or child had asked to be born into the Shimada family, but now it was both their burdens to bear. So for now, they would both have to deal with staying in some nondescript motel on the very outskirts of town. He would endure the stares he got when people saw such a serious-looking man carry around an infant. As for Katsumi, she would have to endure having him as a father. Hanzo hoped that when Katsumi grew up, she would one day have the heart to forgive him for depriving her of a normal childhood. And he hoped that if Genji’s spirit was watching him, he could forgive as well. 

But when he had to get out of bed for the seventh time because Katsumi was wailing for no reason, **again,** Hanzo wondered if this was Genji’s way of giving him one final ‘fuck you’ from beyond the grave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya get to know a guy after a year

After spending roughly a year in another’s company, one tends to get to know one’s companion rather well. As such, Hanzo had compiled a mental list of important things about Katsumi. 

Firstly, she liked to drool. A lot. From what he learned from the parenting books he had acquired over the past year, this was completely normal and expected of an infant. That being said, nowhere did it warn that babies had a particular fondness for drooling over one’s most expensive attire. Oh no, this little bit of information was a lovely surprise. 

Silk kimonos, designer suits, and handcrafted yukatas were some of her particular favorites. She of course never drooled on anything cotton or plain, much to his frustration. Hanzo could not put the blame entirely on her though, after all, he was the one who was foolish enough to wear such finer things around a creature known for their excessive messes and particular tastes on which to make said messes. Where such formal attire might have been the norm for Hanzo in the past, that was no longer the case. But better safe than sorry, so t-shirts and jeans became his choice of attire for almost a whole year. As soon as he made peace with his new wardrobe however, her drooling phase was mysteriously over. 

Secondly, she had a fascination with his tattoo. She could spend hours tracing the lines with sticky, chubby fingers; eyes big and mesmerized like it were the first time she was seeing it. It soon became a favorite activity of hers when she was upset and fussy, to sit on his hip while tracing and fidgeting with the tattoo so she could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. He couldn’t quite understand it, but as long as it could put a crying baby to sleep, he wasn’t going to complain.

Thirdly, Hanzo realized he would grossly overreact for her every little achievement. The day she patted his arm and babbled ‘Dada, dada’, tears pricked the corner of his eyes. The day she took her first steps, Hanzo felt so ecstatic he nearly didn’t realise how much his face hurt. It took him a while to realise it was because he had been smiling so broadly, the first genuine one in a very, very long time. If he reacted in such a way for completely normal milestones for Katsumi, he knew he would be helpless when she did something of actual merit. 

And last but not least, Katsumi was a splitting image of Genji. From the shape of her face and right down to that mischievous twinkle in her eye. If one were to compare his late brother’s baby pictures with Katsumi’s, he could imagine even his father having trouble figuring out the difference. Was it wrong for him to wish that she grew up to look completely different? He did not want a pang to go through his heart every time he saw his daughter’s face. It seemed that Genji really was determined to haunt Hanzo for the rest of his life.  
  
For now, Hanzo pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He had a more pressing matter at hand, such as putting Katsumi to bed. After so many sleepless nights caused by nightmares and Katsumi’s insistence on waking up during ungodly hours of the evening, the poor man was ready to collapse. 

Their usual routine consisted of Hanzo gently bouncing Katsumi up and down in his arms until he heard her yawn. As per the usual, she played with his tattoo until those little, chubby fingers started slipping from his arm and her head would droop down on his chest. Then, of course, there was the drool. 

Very slowly, careful not to wake her, he’d lower her into her crib. Sometimes she’d wake and squirm and he’d have to start all over. Often enough though he managed to get her tucked in bed still asleep. He’d usually tuck her stuffed bear under her arm and tiptoe into bed without waking her, utilizing years of assassin training to achieve such a feat. 

After a year of this routine, it only dawned on Hanzo how ironic it was he was taking on the role of caretaker. In his former life as a scion, it was expected of him to produce a heir for the clan with a woman worthy of the Shimada title. Despite this, he would most likely not be the one in charge of the child’s welfare. After all, his earliest memories were being surrounded by nannies and tutors alike, but rarely ever his parents. They were to be respected and feared from a distance, much like a hero or a dragon. After all, no self-respecting Shimada would lower themselves to menial tasks such as changing diapers. 

Yet here he was doing such menial tasks. Raising a child was the biggest thing, yes, but then there were smaller but just as important tasks in a daily routine. This was when he learned the art of multitasking. Hanzo remembered the first time he actually had to cook for himself which, predictably, ended up being a complete disaster. He often looked back on it, berating himself for failing such a simple task. Then again, he also remembered how he had to divide his attention between a fussy Katsumi who he was cradling in one arm, following the instructions of what was suppose to be a relatively simple recipe, and preparing ingredients with his free arm all while hoping no other tenants in his apartment would notice or ask about the alarming amount of smoke pouring out of his kitchen. 

But even with the drool-stained clothes and the changing of blow-out diapers (seriously, how could such a tiny person produce so much excrement?!), Hanzo knew deep down that he did not regret taking on this lifestyle. Even more surprisingly, the thought of how he wouldn't be doing this nightly routine soon enough made him sad.

Hanzo turned over in bed to face Katsumi. As luck would have it, she was sleeping peacefully. “Goodnight, little one.” He mumbled to the crib for no particular reason. 

Hanzo closed his eyes, hoping for a dreamless night as he always did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fuckyouamanda

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fuckyouamanda


End file.
